God and the King

by Marjorie Bowen

  CHAPTER XII

  FRANCE MOVES AGAIN

  It was mid-October; the Prince's preparations were complete, even to theputting of the horses on board, and yet there was silence from France.A terrible lull of suspense hushed the United Provinces, and of all theanxious hearts there was none so anxious as that of the man who hadstaked this great wager--the Stadtholder.

  On this day, the nineteenth of the month, he returned from the camp atNymwegen, where he had been reviewing the troops long since secretlyraised and drilled by him, and now sanctioned by the States, entered TheHague privately, and rode to the Binnenhof, where he was closeted withM. Fagel, who gave him the last assurances that all opposition, evenfrom the Republican or Loeventein party, was extinct.

  When he left the Grand Pensionary and came out into the still corridorsof the Binnenhof, he stood thoughtfully for a moment, at the head of thestaircase, thinking of the various threads, all so different in texture,that he had almost succeeded in weaving into the completed pattern ofhis design.

  His own country, the German princes, the Empire, Spain, Sweden, England,the Pope--all combined at last with one aim, to answer the aggressionsof France.

  For ten years, ever since the Peace of Nymwegen had been forced on him,he had been working through gloom, disappointment, discouragement, forthis end. His answer to the revocation of the Nantz edict and theseizure of Orange had been the League of Augsburg, which was now bearingfruit, and all Europe was directed against France.

  Toil, energy, courage, patience, and genius were telling. The youngdisinherited Prince, who had been treated as a mere pawn by Charles andLouis, the general of twenty-two with a miserable army, who had beenoffered humiliating terms by the French, insolently victorious, hadslowly grown to be a power that both Bourbon and Stewart feared, andwhose influence was predominant over the larger half of the Continent.

  His rapid thoughts went back over the years to those black days of bloodand despair when he had been put at the head of his country's fortunesand trusted with her sole hopes. Defeat--disappointment had often beenhis in his struggle to maintain the position of the States in Europe,but even to his own judgment, and he ranked his own achievements low, itseemed that success had waited on all his apparent failures, for hiscountry was not only free but great, and he not only independent butpowerful.

  Slowly he began to descend the stairs, which were full of a mistysunlight. When he reached the first landing-place a man stepped fromone of the tall doors, and, seeing the Prince, bowed and stood veryrespectfully waiting for him to pass.

  William paused, came to a stop, and regarded this man with a close, keenscrutiny.

  He stood so still that the object of his gaze lifted surprised eyes, andthe two looked at each other.

  The Prince stood at the bottom of the flight of stairs, one hand restingon the polished newel post. He was in buff military attire and carriedover his right arm a heavy dark cloak; he wore a black beaver thatshaded his brow, but the rich light was full on his face, whichexpressed a strong emotion sternly contained.

  Behind him a blue and green tapestry hung on the dark wall; it showed asea fight with curious ships and curling waves, and banners risingthrough smoke; the sun showed every thread in it--every crease, and thelatent gold in the heavy chestnut locks of the Prince.

  "M. Heinsius," he said softly.

  "Your Highness?"

  The Prince did not change his position nor move his brilliant gaze.

  "I think to leave the States very soon, as you know, Mynheer; you knowalso under what circumstances." He paused a second, then added: "I haveyour good wishes, Mynheer?"

  Antoon Heinsius coloured from chin to brow. He had been of theLoeventein party and in favour of France, but his policy had changedlately to an adherence to the Stadtholder; he had not expected this tobe remarked by William.

  "Every true heart in Holland," he answered strongly, "must pray for thesuccess of Your Highness."

  William descended to the landing-place and laid his frail hand, halfconcealed in embroidered linen ruffles, on the sleeve of M. Heinsius.

  "You are the kind of man I want. M. Fagel is old and in failinghealth--he needeth help," he said. "You are a patriot; you would, Ithink, do anything for the States."

  The words were poor compared to the fire and energy in the Stadtholder'sstrained but steady voice, and the purpose in the gentle firm touch ofhis hand on the other man's arm.

  M. Antoon Heinsius answered instantly, with a deepening of the colour inhis fine handsome face--

  "Your Highness doth me exceeding honour."

  "I am never better pleased," said William, "than when I can make a manlike you my friend."

  "Your friend--your servant, Highness," murmured M. Heinsius. He wasconsiderably moved by this kindness from one usually so stately andreserved, and one whom he had of late, as he understood his policybetter, warmly admired.

  "You know my aims, my plans of government," continued the Stadtholder;"you will know what to do in my absence,--by serving Holland you servemore than Holland."

  M. Heinsius answered earnestly--

  "Before God I will do my best."

  "Your best is well worth having, Mynheer. I have noticed your career."

  The two men, but a little time since in opposition, looked with completeunderstanding into each other's eyes. The Prince had won the fineloyalty of M. Heinsius as he won all whom he set himself to gain, as hewon ultimately, indeed, all those who served him and came to know himintimately.

  "The States have acted to the wishes of Your Highness?" asked M.Heinsius.

  "The States have trusted me," answered the Prince. "Even the Loeventeinfaction are eager for me to depart on this expedition, in the hopes,maybe"--he smiled--"that I shall be slain or affronted. But I haveanxieties."

  He paused and looked at the water of the Vyverberg that lay glintingwith autumn gold beneath the window.

  "Mynheer," he added, "a country is a high stake--one's own country.Mynheer," he looked again into the face of the older man, "you haveperhaps thought there was some wantonness in this my resolve, you havethought that I may have dared too much in offering to take beyond seasall the defences of the States."

  "Never!" answered M. Heinsius firmly. "I understand and I applaud thepolicy of Your Highness."

  "It is," said the Stadtholder, "on a sure bottom and to be justified.Yet, until I know what France doth, I am no better than a man on therack."

  "You think--even now?"

  "Even now--if they were to fall on the frontier! Nought there but theSpaniards! But a little while will show us."

  He paused again, then said, weighing his words, and with a strangemingling of simplicity and dignity.

  "I am no King in this country, Mynheer, but the servant of the Republic,and you, who are a knowing man and one who hath the common welfare atheart, I would have hold me justified in this I do. I have beenbelieved ambitious, but my ambition is one with the good of the States,and God knoweth that I do not take this tremendous risk from any suchpaltry motive, but because it is our chance, which if we do not take weare as good as lost."

  "It is no flattery to say that I agree with Your Highness, who seethfarther and more clearly than most men."

  "You will hear them," answered William, "talk of England, and what I doto gain England, and how much store I set by that country. Be notdeceived; England is but a counter in the game I play, and, if Isucceed, will be but one of many allies which we will lead againstFrance. And always with me, Mynheer Heinsius, it is theRepublic--always."

  He spoke with intensity and emotion that were the more moving incontrast to his usual sternness.

  "The deeds of Your Highness have proved your words," answered AntoonHeinsius in an unsteady voice.

  The Stadtholder sighed.

  "I will not disguise from you that my sufferings are terrible--mydisquietude almost unbearable, for it is the Republic at stake," hesaid.

&nb
sp; He gave his hand to M. Heinsius, who kissed it very lowly, and left theBinnenhof.

  He had not so much as a footboy in attendance, and rode rapidly to the'huis ten bosch' with little regard for the salutes and respectfulhomage of those he passed. His contemplated enterprise, the very daringof which, owing to his usual caution, was the more awe-inspiring, madehim even more than ever an object of admiration and attention at TheHague.

  Once within the bounds of his own woods he was enwrapped in the graciousloveliness of the trees--the quiet of the frost-bound earth, and hadalmost reached the house before he met anyone; then, round the turn ofthe long main avenue came a lady, very gracefully riding a white horse.

  The Prince gave her a quick glance, touched his beaver, and was passingwith no slacking of his pace, but she drew rein and said in a faintvoice--

  "Your Highness----" with a little gesture that seemed to entreat him tostay.

  He turned his horse instantly.

  "I am leaving The Hague, sir," she said, speaking English, which wasobviously her native tongue. "I have the permission of Her Highness togo see my sister who is sadly worse."

  She was young, very slender, and carried herself with a certain air offire and pride, a certain poise of dignity and animation charming tobehold; her features were ordinary, but vivacious and intelligent; therewas a certain set or cast in her brown eyes not unattractive, and herhair, in a hundred gleaming hues of gold, red, and deep honey colour,hung in thick curls on to her riding coat, cut like a man's and thicklyembroidered with gold.

  "Madame Bentinck is worse?" repeated William in a quick distress.

  "They did say so. I felt I should go."

  "I am grieved a thousand times," he added, "and for M. Bentinck"--hespoke with real feeling, but with that touch of constraint (unlike hisusual reserve) which marked her manner to him--"and for you, Madam."

  Miss Villiers hesitated a second, then said abruptly--

  "I did not think to meet you. I shall not see you again before yousail. Take my poor wishes with you."

  "I have been so bold as to feel sure of them," he answered gravely. Shewas silent, but he did not ride on, but sat with slack reins looking ather, half in the thick autumn sunlight, half in the shade of the closetree trunks, for the sun was sinking.

  They had not spoken to each other alone for years; but when she hadfirst come to The Hague with his wife there had been a swift attractionbetween them, which, for all her discretion and his reserve, had notfailed to be seized upon by the English agents to work discords in theCourt of The Hague. It was not so long ago that the Princess'sChaplain, Dr. Covell, and Miss Trelawney, had been dismissed by Mary forinventing and spreading this kind of gossip for the benefit of thosespies of the English Court who were ever endeavouring to estrange thePrince from his wife.

  The Stadtholder was sensitive to these malicious scandals. He ratheravoided Miss Villiers, who, on her part, was utterly indifferent toreport and, secure in the position the marriage of her sister to M.Bentinck gave her, troubled herself not in the least either about Mary'sgentle dislike or her own unpopularity in The Hague. She had greatgifts--wit and courage and understanding, enthusiasm and self-control;she was very reserved, no one knew her well, not the Prince now, thoughonce he had had her inspiring friendship, her brilliant advice, herardent attention; she was still of service to him, but always throughthe medium of her sister and M. Bentinck. It was strange to both ofthem to come face to face like this in those woods in which, near tenyears ago, they had walked together, and he had told her of his hopesand fears previous, and just after the Peace of Nymwegen.

  He smiled and she frowned; each wondered how much that friendship hadbeen worth to the other; Miss Villiers thought that she had long beenbalanced with his wife in his affections; he, that she had neverconsidered him as more than the embodiment of a policy that sheadmired--both were wrong.

  "Tell me," she said suddenly, "are you still in fears of the French?"

  "The greatest fears. Until I know how they are going to move I considerthe whole plan in jeopardy. If they should march on the frontiers----"

  "God forbid!" she exclaimed fervently. "When will you know?"

  "I am utterly in the dark."

  "I shall not sleep until you have safely sailed," she said. "For what isto become of England if this faileth?"

  "It must not fail," he answered quietly.

  Miss Villiers looked at him strangely.

  "No," she remarked; "I do not think you will fail--in the end."

  She lowered her eyes, patted the strong arched neck of her horse, andadded--

  "I have seen my Lord Shrewsbury and my Lord Manchester, and laboured tostrengthen them in your cause." She smiled. "They are discontentedalready."

  "Does it matter?" asked William.

  "A vast deal. You must, sir, try to please the English more; they donot love you."

  "Then I cannot make them."

  She raised her eyes again.

  "Perhaps you do not quite understand us--the English--though you haveknown a many by now----"

  "I do not even understand you, Madam," he answered, "save that you havedone great services to the cause I stand for, and for that," he addedearnestly, "you must not think me ungrateful. Some day I may be able toshare prosperity with my friends."

  He said the last sentence with a warmth yet a simplicity whollycharming. Miss Villiers paled and averted her eyes.

  "What use is my advice!" she exclaimed bitterly. "What use am I!"

  He looked in surprise at this sudden alteration in her even demeanour.

  "It hath been of use to us," he said gravely. "And what you say now isjust, and I will remember it----"

  Miss Villiers suddenly laughed.

  "Yes; you must be very civil, sir, to the English, and--you must nevertrust them!"

  She touched up her horse.

  "Sure I will not detain Your Highness----"

  He took off his hat.

  "I have writ to M. Bentinck," he said earnestly; "but tell him yourselfwhat a great concern I am under as to your sister her health--and thathe must send a messenger with news."

  Elizabeth Villiers bent her head, smiled rather sadly, and they parted;he towards the house at the end of the long avenue, and she throughgold-red glittering woods into the hazy autumn distance.

  When he reached the steps of his villa he saw another woman awaitinghim--the Princess, standing in the full last light, with a light cloakabout her. As soon as she beheld his approach she came forward, and wasat his stirrup before he had dismounted.

  "There is a galloper from Flanders with news," she said; her voice wasstrained, and she clasped her hands tightly together to steady them.

  A broken exclamation escaped the Prince.

  "If the French are marching on the frontiers I cannot go!"

  The grooms came forward and took his great horse; he sprang from thesaddle and went with the Princess up the shallow sun-flooded steps.

  "Oh, my dear!" cried Mary under her breath, "if there are illadvices----"

  He pressed her hand fiercely.

  "I cannot leave the country if they are invading Flanders----"

  In the simple vestibule was the impatient messenger--a young Spanishofficer, who went, very courtly, on one knee when the Prince entered,and handed a packet from M. de Castagnana.

  "News of the French?" demanded William swiftly.

  "I do believe so, Highness."

  The Stadtholder broke open the dispatch, glanced down the close lines ofSpanish, and turned instantly to his pale wife, whose eyes were fixed onhim with a piteous intensity.

  "The French have abandoned Flanders!" he cried; "their troops arepouring into Germany--the States are safe, thank God! thank God----"